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What the hell was I doing? I stared up at the perfectly white building. The blood red writing dirtied the buildings perfection. I often wondered if the building would have the same allure if it wasn’t for the contrasting writing. Maybe it would just be a white building that blended in with every other building around it. Was it the blood red of the writing that gave the building character, or would the building be appealing without it?
I sighed when I realized I was asking myself stupid questions, distracting from the real reason I was parked in front of The Scarlett Room. He was inside ... that was why I was here. I was gathering the courage to see him ... to ask him why he lied. I needed to know. It was important because if I chose not to conform with my people’s ways, then I needed to know my trust wasn’t misplaced.
I was frozen, unable to reach for the door handle to exit the car and unable to start the car and leave. If I left, I wouldn’t have my answer. If I went inside, then I might get an answer that would break my heart. I groaned as I placed my forehead on the steering wheel. What the hell was I going to do?
My phone rang, startling me out of my thoughts. I frowned when I didn’t recognize the number. I answered anyway. “Hello.”
“Dorian?” The hesitant voice was familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
I straightened. “Yes ... who is this?”
He cleared his throat. “This is Marshal Carter ... we worked a missing girl’s case not too long ago.”
“Of course ... what can I do for you?” I found it odd that Carter was calling me and not Henry. I started to wonder how he even got my number ... maybe Rex gave it to him.
He hesitated. “Henry gave me your number. He said he was unavailable, and I need a consultation on a case.”
My nose wrinkled in confusion. Why was Henry unavailable? It didn’t make sense, but I decided not to think about it too long. I certainly wasn’t going to call Henry and ask. “Sure ... text me the address and I’ll be right over.”
“Will do.” He hung up without another word. Seconds later, my phone jingled indicating a text message.
I typed the address into the GPS, then started the car. I finally had a reason to leave. Maybe it was a good thing. I didn’t need to know the awful truth ... did I?
